


Scandals

by Identiaetslos



Series: Alex Ryder Story Arcs [15]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Battle Couple, F/F, Fluff, Post Endgame Fic, Romance, Smut, Yes I am giving Sloane and Addison a chance to fight alongside each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-06-22 22:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15591636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Identiaetslos/pseuds/Identiaetslos
Summary: After Meridian, hope finally lives in Heleus. For Sloane Kelly and Foster Addison, life settling into a routine means that they can explore their relationship more. While on a date to an obscure part of the cluster, Sloane and Addison are taken hostage by Reyes Vidal. Now, it's up to Pathfinder Alex Ryder and fam to get them back before it's too late.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like all my WIPs, this is subject to edits along the way for continuity and content.
> 
> I've also read the Discovery Comics, Nexus Uprising, and Initiation so there is a high probability of spoilers.
> 
> This story may also connect with other fics in Alex's story arc.

Sloane Kelly had nearly forgotten how beautiful the Heleus Cluster could be. Relieved to be out here without someone chasing her, or without the threat of starvation, she allowed herself to admire the Scourge as it twinkled in the distance along with stars that were slowly becoming more visible thanks to the Pathfinder and her efforts. Ryder and the Tempest weren't far; she was keeping a watchful eye over the gifted shuttle and its occupants, but minding a safe distance that also afforded Sloane the privacy she sought with the Initiative's Director of Colonial Affairs. It was an informal meeting, one without the eyes of Director Tann or Ambassador Moshae or even Kaetus. A date and a romantic one at that.

Setting it up here of all places had been Ryder's idea as was the idea of the Tempest serving as a chaperon: A routine mapping mission is what she and Addison both claimed they put it in as. Sloane hadn't said much to her merry band. Just that it had something to do with business. She hated lying, but the truth would have been far worse.

Alex Ryder had been nothing but helpful in facilitating the closest thing to reconciliation as the Initiative was going to get from Sloane, and to her credit, both she and her wife made a point to keep their mouths shut. Both Alex and Keri had been an invaluable ally to both she and Addison in these short months. For that, Sloane was grateful. This...whatever was happening between her and Addison was the biggest unpublished scandal in all of Heleus.

Retreating from the cockpit of the shuttlecraft, Sloane turned her attention to Foster Addison who was rummaging through a case she'd brought with her. At first, Sloane had figured it was some painting to show her, or maybe some slam poetry shit she had to share. This didn't look like poetry.

“What are you doing?” Sloane asked.

A wry smile stretched across Foster’s lips and she held up a deck of cards and a bottle of whiskey.

Sloane laughed.

“I thought I would take you up on that offer.”

Remembering the poker game from six hundred years ago and Foster’s refusal, Sloane couldn’t help a smile of her own. “Well, I suppose this is another life,” she said dryly and approached.

The shuttlecraft had been powered down just enough for it not to get any ideas but enough that it kept the Director of Colonial Affairs and the Governor of Kadara Port still alive.

Only Tann would demonize something as positive as love, Sloane thought and then shoved it out of her mind. Love. Yeah right. Still, it was good to see Foster. Now that she had Meridian and plenty of colonies to manage, including the one on Kadara, she looked happy.

In the case Foster had with her was a card table and two chairs. Where she managed to find them or who made them made this moment all the more amusing.

“What are we playing for?” Sloane asked, hoping in the back of her mind that she remembered enough how to play. It had been a while, not that would be something she would admit to her opponent. By the look in Foster’s eye, Sloane guessed that she had challenged a deceptively good player back in the Milky Way. Or at least someone unafraid to go toe to toe with her.

“Well, we have an economy now, so my credits are worth as much as yours. Thanks to the Pathfinders, I’ve also got plenty to trade.”

“This is a helluva way to conduct a trade negotiation, Director,” Sloane dug with a laugh. It was more of a flirt than serious.

Foster tilted her head. “Worse has been decided on less.” She’d picked up on it and flirted back, but she was leaving the door open in case Sloane really wanted to conduct business that way.

“Nah. I want to see you get naked,” Sloane said, making her flirt obvious.

The smile on Addison’s face broadened. “You’re on.”

Both of them sat on opposite ends of the table and Foster handed Sloane the cards.

“I feel like this isn’t fair,” Sloane said jokingly, gesturing to the armor set she wore and finished shuffling the cards.

“It just means it will be even more embarrassing when you lose,” Foster challenged and accepted the first card she was dealt.

“Five card draw. Wild cards are for pussies,” Sloane said.

Hours upon hours passed and the game continued; longer than Sloane expected and definitely the way she didn’t expect it to go. After what felt like at least a day, Sloane sat before Addison, stripped down to her dark boxer shorts and one sock, her armor pieces and the rest of her underclothes in a haphazard pile next to the table. At least straight up sex would have been a fair trade.

Across from her Addison still sat, her hair pasted to her brow. She was down to an undershirt, no socks or shoes, but she still had her pants on. Like every hand before this one, Foster’s expression was even in the most perfect poker face that Sloane had ever come across. Even in her attempts to distract Foster with a flex of her muscle or leaning back to expose more of her naked chest, she was unphased.

“I bet the last of your clothes against the last of mine,” Foster said, looking over her cards.

Sloane glanced at hers. She had the straight. Either she was betting on the bluff or she had something good. Statistically, the odds were in Sloane’s favor, or so she figured. “That’s not fair since you have more clothes than me.”

“Fine then, the rest of your clothes and you have to do everything I ask versus the rest of my clothes.” Addison grinned.

“Now, that’s really unfair.” Sloane twisted her lips and couldn’t help a small smile. “Okay. I gotta see this.” She laid down her cards and Addison laid down hers: Full house.

“How do you...this is...” Sloane stuttered and leaned back with a slight growl.

“I cheat.” Foster said.

“I knew you were going to say that,” Sloane grumbled in that melodious low voice that Foster liked.

“Pay up,” Foster said, gesturing to Sloane. She lifted her dark eyebrows, lighted in the romantic blue and white glow of the shuttle’s instrumentation.

Sloane made a face and stood up, pulling off her boxers. Self-consciously, she glanced at the window at the shuttle cockpit, which was mostly obscured but there was still enough that if someone were to come by they would get an eye full. Ordinarily, Sloane would have objected to parading around in the buff like this, but in front of Addison it felt freeing. She’d also made sure that the air temperature on the shuttlecraft was just right that her nipples weren’t too loud, nor was she sweating like an Oktoberfest sausage.

Knowing that Foster liked to look at her, Sloane twisted her body and flexed and then posed as if she were back in dance class, letting the light play with the lines of her muscles.

Foster stood and began removing the rest of her clothing.

“I don’t remember this being part of the bet,” Sloane said coyly and was grabbed by the arm and pulled down to the deck, on top of Addison.

Foster just grinned and kissed Sloane deeply. “Touch me...” she breathed.

“Yes Director,” Sloane purred and nibbled down Addison’s neck, grinning as she gasped and tried to grip the deck plates.

Suddenly, the shuttle pitched violently and alarms began to screech to life.

“What was that?” Addison asked dumbly.

“Fucking Scourge,” Sloane growled. Quickly finding her underwear and the t-shirt she wore underneath her armor, she dressed and launched herself into the pilot’s chair. Readings from the Scourge were unchanged. It wasn’t that.

Addison joined her, wearing her pants and her uniform jacket buttoned over what looked to be her naked chest.

The ship pitched violently again and a loud bang was at the hatch door.

“This isn’t good,” Sloane murmured and ran to her armor still lying on the deck and fumbled for her Carnifex. “Try to get us out of here!” She shouted back at Addison.

“I’m trying, but something’s latched onto us!” Addison cried back.

“Grab a weapon!” Sloane returned and flicked the safety off her pistol and readied it. There was a loud whine on the other side of the airlock and she aimed. Hopefully there weren’t many of them, or enough to where she could make a dent and leave Addison with a way out of here.

Addison was at her side with a Sidewinder that Sloane guessed was something custom made for her. Her hands were unsteady enough that Sloane knew that she wouldn’t make much of a dent.

“Move back,” She said and pushed Addison behind her.

“I’m not letting you go down,” Foster said.

“Well, not like this,” Sloane retorted, unable to help the dirty joke.

The whining stopped and the door blew open to a small hail of fire.

Instantly, Sloane was hit in the shoulder and cried out as she squeezed the trigger into the din and smoke. She heard shouts and impacts that sizzled likely against soldiers wearing full shields and armor. This was a losing battle, but damn if she wasn't going to take a few out with her. Firing wildly, Sloane was hit twice again, once in her leg and through her hip. She collapsed to the deck in a splatter of arms, legs, and blood. Frantically, she looked to Addison, who retreated farther into the shuttle and fired wildly, but was hit in the arm herself. Tears fell down Foster's face and tried to struggle to her feet. If anything she could shield Addison from any more and maybe she'd take enough that her lover would have a chance of escape.

Her legs failed her and she stumbled back to the deck. “Foster!” Sloane cried out and she tried her best to crawl to the Director of Colonial Affairs.

“Stop shooting.” Came an order from the din. They didn’t sound like Kett or Roekarr.

No more shots came.

Sloane squared herself as much as she could to whoever her attackers were. Her shoulder, leg, and hip throbbed from where she’d been hit and she was losing blood fast. “Hey, fuckers, it’s me you want! She’s just a nobody, a civilian!” Sloane spat, hoping to distract them from Addison.

Smoke gave way to the familiar figure of Reyes Vidal who held up his hands triumphantly. "Sloane! What a pleasant surprise. Don't lie, it's unbecoming. Foster and I have met before," he sent her a smarmy grin. Scanning the scene before him, he let out a laugh. “Oh what have we here?” Reyes looked from Sloane Kelly, dressed in her underwear, bleeding out on the floor, to her companion who clearly was her lover. Kicking the pile of Sloane's armor, he turned to both of them in a mixture of shock and pleasure as if he had stumbled upon the greatest goldmine in the galaxy. "You and... _Director Addison_?" he laughed. "Honestly, this is your best lie yet. I never would have guessed, but it explains so much."

Shock was setting in and Sloane struggled amidst shivers. Screaming at the hand that still clutched her weapon, she willed it to raise.

Reyes clucked is tongue and aimed his pistol squarely at Sloane’s head.

“You know if you kill either of us, the Initiative will hunt you down. The Pathfinder will hunt you down," Foster growled. One of Reyes' men had her around the shoulders.

“The Pathfinder?” Reyes snorted. “She’s a little busy right now, but I have no doubt she will try, at least. However, she's an even worse card player than you, so I am betting it will take her a while to catch on. That whole young and gullible thing,” he waved his hand dismissively. “Especially when it comes to someone she cares about.”

He lowered his gun. More of his soldiers made their way into the shuttle. “Your bravado is your undoing, Sloane. And you always take someone with you.” He knelt before her, his breath reeked as did his clothes, as if he hadn’t showered in weeks. “Fortunately, Director Addison, I have no intention of killing either of you. At least for now. Though, I am disappointed, Foster...a smart and beautiful woman could do so much better.”

Collective goons were casing the shuttle for scraps. Most of them wore complete pressure suits, helmets and everything to disguise their identities. Cowardly, but a tactic that Sloane remembered employing herself.

"Nah don't bother. Just set the charges and do it quickly before the Tempest gets back," Reyes said, and then grinned back at Sloane. "Now what to do with you?" He feigned contemplation and then grabbed Sloane by the hair. "I know."

Reyes reared back with a fist and that was the last Sloane remembered seeing of the inside of the shuttle.


	2. Chapter 2

Whatever it was that Sloane had been dreaming of, it was enough to startle her out of her sleep. It took her a moment to get her bearings: She was alive, and on a bed with soft sheets, clothes were on but not her armor. Her head and side throbbed and she quickly remembered being shot and then getting hit and...Reyes….the shuttle... _Addison_.

Looking around the bedroom she found herself in, it didn’t look like the inside of a shuttle, or any other installation that she would associate with Reyes...or any other Exile for that matter, including anything that might be on Kadara. At least that she knew about.

“Where am I?” She asked of no one since the room was empty. She blinked several times and focused her eyes against the darkness of the room, lit only by the light coming from a nearby open door. She presumed that the light in this one was kept turned down to allow her to rest. Or to give a captor an advantage somehow. Glancing around again, she reminded herself that she was alone.

Wondering whether she might be back on the Nexus, something told her that she was still a prisoner. Cautiously, she looked around at the floor for anything hostile. Detecting only what appeared to be carpet, she ventured a bare foot onto the surface and was met with only soothing warmth. Her muscles ached as did spots throughout her body she remembered being injured.

Finding the courage to apply more weight, she stood and steadied herself, feeling her body for the status of her gunshot wounds. Finding the holes that should be there gone, she felt relived and a sense of dread. If she was still captive, what did Reyes have in store?

Was she still being held by Reyes? Or was it someone new?

The clothes she wore were loose-fitting, comfortable. Not pajamas but were utilitarian in that they served a duel purpose, and reminded her of something she'd seen worn on Earth. It was nondescript, tan and matched the carpet in its dullness except for the shade. There were no symbols, emblems, or any other stitching patterns to indicate an affiliation of any kind: No Andromeda Initiative logos either, and no Collective insignia. She'd also been stripped of her Omni-Tool.

Was she still dreaming? Was she dead?

Growling angrily at such a preposterous thought, Sloane made her way through an open doorway leading into a sitting room, with half-closed bathroom complete with shower accommodations. However, the space where there would have been a kitchen had been ripped out leaving just counters. No appliances or fixtures of any kind. However, there was noise from what Sloane guessed to be environmental controls...which, given the number of barely-habitable worlds in Heleus and the growing number of orbital installations aside from the Nexus, meant very little. It could very well still be a ship.

Did the Milky Way bring ships large enough to afford space for state rooms like this? Sloane didn’t recall any on the Nexus...apart from the Pathfinder ships.

Light was provided through recessed fixtures on the ceiling. It was warm, homely and not sterile, but it did light the room in such a way that there were no shadows to hide behind.

The room she was in reminded her of a fancy hotel on the Citadel. Plush, modern decorations everywhere with neutral fabrics and colors laid out in sleek luxury that pleased even her rustic sensibilities, but also raised the question: Where did all this come from?

A monitor was on the wall adjacent to the bedroom and bathroom doors and facing a long sofa the same puke brown color as the carpet. The sofa was moderately stuffed and no zippers or ties could be seen to the cushions for her to use. It was satellited by a pair of rounded cubes that were serving as end tables; one of which had one keypad control which Sloane guessed went to the monitor, and the other end table had nothing on it. All three furnishings appeared to be attached to the floor: Another prayer not ansewred. The monitor wasn’t lit, affording her a chance to take stock of the damage in her reflection.

Confirming her tactile inspection, there was no damage save for her hair: Partially pulled out from where Asshole had grabbed and, thankfully, left alone. Revenge would have to wait. Getting out of here was the top priority.

As was finding Foster.

Just as Sloane was about to lift her voice to call out, a slot opened in the wall near the end table farthest from her and a tray of food was pushed in.

“Hello?!” Sloane called, but the slot was closed before the word got all the way out and remained unanswered.

Edging around the sofa, Sloane eyed the food suspiciously. It was hot and steamed into the air of the room. On first inspection, it seemed nothing fancy, just a small bowl of swirled goop and smelled a bit like Angaran food paste mixed with the meal rations from her district back on Earth.

She was hungry. Probably had been a while since she’d eaten, and her body was likely yelling at her that it needed something to continue the healing process. However, decades of skirmishes against pirates in the Terminus systems along with hostage training and her own stubbornness taught her that trusting offered food would be the last thing she should be doing.

Was this how it ended? Poisoned by the same food rations she pilfered from one of the local drops, smearing it into her mouth ravenously before the cops caught up to her. Or worse: One of the other gangs.

A hunger strike might be the best solution of ferreting out whoever was holding her. She had to know who she was up against if it wasn’t Reyes anymore. She also had to find out where Foster was being held. Then again, Sloane thought, eyeing the food hungrily, Reyes had seemed surprised to see her there. He had been more interested in Addison; and he knew she would be there...but not Sloane. If Addison had been his real target, whether the Outcast died here of food poisoning or starvation really wouldn’t matter. It would be icing on Reyes' plate, and death would only serve whoever was holding Foster. Remembering Reyes stench, Sloane shook her head inwardly. Couldn't be him. If even the jail cells here had clean linens and showers, she was likely being held by whoever he was working for.

According to Foster, she had filed a fake flight plan with the Nexus and the only person left on the station that knew about...them were Kandros...and Kesh...and Sergeant Talini, she reminded herself. And anyone else that had been smart enough to put two and two together back in the day. Maybe some of the colonists on Ditaeon. No no...couldn’t have been them.

Gossips on Ditaeon would have known about the affair but not that Sloane and Addison would have been together, today. That also included whoever they could have sold their information to, which wasn't Reyes. He had been surprised to discover the truth.

No one except the Tempest crew knew they would be here together, and only Alex knew beforehand. Unless whoever ratted them out kept her relationship with Foster a secret. Or the other way around. No no...too many do-gooders on the Pathfinder’s ship, Sloane reasoned.

She hesitated staring at the food. It was starting to get cold, even in the pleasant air of these quarters. There were plenty of Milky Way poisons to be sinister enough to kill through even a small taste—to say nothing about Angaran. She’d only hit the tip of the iceberg with theirs.

“Roekarr are some nasty people...” Sloane said to the bowl, blinking away a departed face as it threatened to disturb her inner calm.

Then again, Alex had taken care of the Roekarr for the most part. Of course, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a rogue faction somewhere, or people who sympathized out of convenience. Like that little angaran woman...Keema,who always hung around. She’d seemed harmless enough, but greed was a powerful motivator. How often did that woman lurk around, relaying patterns that Sloane had neglected to notice about herself?

Keema couldn’t have known either. Sloane had been smart enough to keep her at arms length from her relationship with the Nexus. Only one person knew about Addison and that was Kaetus. He wouldn’t betray her for anything, whether or not he personally agreed.

Which he didn’t.

A grand, soap opera of a conspiracy was also unlikely. What was the old saying: ‘The simplest explanation tends to be the truth?’ All signs pointed to the Nexus as the probable place of duplicity. She knew Kandros and Talini well enough that it couldn’t have been them...or Kesh. Unless someone’s back was against the wall.

Either way, the place to start would be there. If she could get out of this bloody place and stay out of reach from this enemy long enough to conduct a proper investigation. With the help of Director Addison and Director Kandros. Director Kandros...felt odd and satisfying to think it at the same time.

Getting out of here meant that her body needed to heal. That meant food, even if it was largely cold at this point and deadly tantalizing.

Well no...if whoever held her wanted her dead, they would have let her die on the shuttle wouldn’t they? Why spend all the energy to heal her wounds just to kill her? Not even Reyes was that stupid.

Holding her breath, Sloane smeared a finger through the paste and touched a dollop to the end of her tongue, letting it rest. It tasted exactly like she expected: Sweet, savory, and it was as though she could still taste the trashcan cookouts and industrial pyres of days gone.

To her relief, Sloane did not feel ill and, as far as she could tell, she was still breathing. So, she ate. Shoveling food into her mouth like she was ten years old again and in the shelter of some husk of a building, clothed in rags she found in the dumpster behind a thrift store, hoping Oodana wouldn’t find her again. Worse than the cops, worse than even one of the rival gangs finding her.

Just as Sloane felt resurrected raindrops on her bare arms, she looked down and noticed that she’d finished her food. She let out a sigh and brought herself back to reality and looked around. She was still alone.

Now was time for some more information gathering. Sloane pressed the keypad on the opposite end table and just as she’d guessed, the monitor sprang to life to the tune of Good Morning Andromeda Hosted by Keri T’Vessa.


End file.
